I've Never
by nicevenn
Summary: After the war, Muggle Studies is a required subject at Hogwarts. For seventh and eighth years, this includes a mandatory Muggle-style ski holiday.


Harry liked skiing. He didn't think he would. Maybe it was due to Ron's constant remarks about the ridiculousness of sliding down a mountain strapped to a pair of narrow wooden boards. True, it wasn't quite like flying, but it did have its own appeal.

If Harry wasn't mistaken, Draco Malfoy had a similar opinion. The evening they'd arrived in the chalet they and the other eighth year students were assigned to, Malfoy's expression had been one of sheer misery. He'd looked around the cosy, rustic cabin with a slight grimace and gone to sulk in a corner with Parkinson and Zabini. Since the first time he'd hit the slopes, however, Malfoy looked happier than Harry remembered ever seeing him.

Harry finished putting on his skis and stopped to appreciate the view. The snow was almost blinding against the cerulean sky; the air felt crisp and cold in his lungs. He was anxious to start skiing, but he and Malfoy were still waiting for the others to catch up.

He felt a need to break the silence. "All right there, Malfoy?"

Malfoy put away his map and lowered his goggles. There was the slightest hint of pink colouring his cheeks — probably from the cold. "All right."

Harry wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed like there was an energy between them this week that he wouldn't describe as negative. Competitive, perhaps, but not antagonistic. Maybe it was because they were the only two who actually enjoyed the Muggle sport they were sent here to learn. Skiing didn't compare to Quidditch, of course, but as they were not allowed brooms on this mandatory Muggle Studies trip, it was the best substitute. One could either drag their feet and complain, like Ron did, or make the best of things.

"Oi, Harry!" said Ron, who had just arrived with the others. They must have taken the next lift. "You ran off in such a hurry I was starting to think you wanted some quality time with the Ferret."

Parkinson sent Ron a hostile glare before steering Malfoy away.

Harry fit his goggles over his round spectacles, and picked up his ski poles. He cast another glance over at Malfoy who looked away as soon as their eyes met.

"Think you can beat the git today?" Ron asked, noticing the interaction.

"I'm gonna try."

\ \ / / \ \ / /

By the time the sun began to set, colouring the sky behind mountains gorgeous shades of orange and purple, Draco's muscles were exhausted. His limbs trembled with the slightest exertion. He thought he might collapse on the way to the restaurant.

He could swear he saw Potter flash him a grin, but when he looked, Potter was staring straight ahead — although the corners of his lips were curved in a suspicious manner. Butterflies fluttered in Draco's stomach. Potter may have been smirking about Draco's defeat, but he still looked good doing it. It was strange, having such thoughts about his former nemesis, but he could no longer deny that he fancied Potter.

Pansy interrupted his thoughts before he could travel too far down that dangerous path. "Enjoying your honeymoon with Potter?"

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Anyone could see you two are obsessed with each other. Neither of you makes a move without watching what the other will do."

They stopped in front of the restaurant. She rested her chin on his shoulder and inhaled his scent. "Mm. I don't blame, Potter. But you, on the other hand, are completely mental."

Draco swallowed. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he said, following the rest group into the building.

The place had a rustic feel to it, just like the chalet they were staying in. A waitress in a colourful folk costume led them to a table in the back. The wood panel walls were decorated with horns, antique mountain axes, and photos of people in folk dress, but the centrepiece was a stuffed ram head on the wall opposite the entrance.

Draco's favourite thing about eating in Switzerland was the bread dipped in fondue. The melted cheese felt wonderful in his stomach after a day out in the cold. Yet, despite his epicurean bliss, Draco couldn't stop thinking about what Pansy had said to him outside. Was he being _that_ obvious? And had Potter really been watching him as well?

Draco tried to put the issue — and his hopes — to rest as he placed his order, but he couldn't help noticing that, at another table Granger was looking at him as if she knew too much.

\ \ / / \ \ / /

By the time they left the restaurant, it was dark outside. As they weren't allowed to Apparate or perform any other type of magic during their holiday, they had to walk back to the cabin. Draco was wary of walking outside in the dark; he always had been. He found himself gravitating towards Potter as they trudged through the snow. When a wolf howled, he moved so close that their arms were touched. If Potter noticed, he didn't say anything.

When they returned to the chalet, a fire was already burning in the hearth. They changed into warm, clean clothes and everyone claimed his or her favourite seat in the sitting room.

Draco took his copy of _Quidditch Today_ and opened it to an article comparing the latest models of broomsticks. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Draco, we're on holiday. Let's do something fun."

"Like what?"

"Like play a game," she said. "A party game."

Beside her, Blaise snorted.

"That's an excellent idea, Pansy," said Granger, who was too far to have overheard unless she'd been listening in.

Everyone stopped talking. Weasley's jaw dropped; he looked as shocked as Pansy did.

"How about a Muggle game to keep with the theme of the holiday?" Granger continued. "I was looking at that Adult version of Loaded Questions—" She indicated a boxed game that had already been under the coffee table when they first arrived at the chalet, and blushed. "It looks like it might be fun."

Pansy smiled. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

Blaise and Draco simultaneously turned to look at Pansy.

"What?" she said, producing a small vial of clear liquid from her bag. "Don't you want to know the Saviour's dirty fantasies?"

It was Draco's turn to blush.

"That settles it," said Ginny Weasley, reaching for the game. Although she was a seventh year, the Weaslette was spending more time in our cabin than in her own – a fact that was making Blaise's holiday more enjoyable than anyone could have anticipated. Draco knew right away that he wouldn't get out of playing this game, with Pansy and Blaise wanting to stay – unless he retired to his room alone and left them to hear Potter's fantasies without him.

The Weaslette set the game up on the table in front of the sofa.

Everyone moved to sit in a circle around the table and listened while Granger explained the rules of the game. Pansy attempted to pass around the Veritaserum, but no one would drink it until she took a sip first. Draco, sitting to Pansy's right, would be the last to partake of the potion; he prayed that there wouldn't be enough left for him, but when Blaise passed him the bottle and, after a moment's hesitation, he tipped it back, there were exactly three drops left.

The game was for up to six players, so they each partnered with the person to their left. One partner would role first, then the other, and so on. Granger, being the one who suggested the game, rolled the die first. She advanced five spaces and read the question corresponding to the tile. "If you were to have sex in a tub of one food or drink item, what would you choose?"

Everyone scribbled their answers. Potter collected the slips of paper and began reading the responses, "Whipped cream, flower petals—hey that's not a food item."

"Some flowers are edible," Granger defensively.

Potter gave her a weird look but continued reading, "Champagne, liquorice snaps – ow! Butterbeer, champagne, chocolate syrup, sugar mice, Firewhisky, Butterbeer, chocolate frosting, and... _another_ liquorice Schnapps."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Champagne – Draco and Terry. Licorice snaps – Ginny and Blaise." At this, Potter sucked in a breath. "Butterbeer –Ernie and Dean. Peppermint schnapps —" Granger blushed. "Ron. Seamus, I'm not sure the Firewhisky is such a good idea. Be careful. Sugar mice – Neville. Chocolate syrup - Susan. Chocolate frosting – Pansy. The flowers were mine, and that leaves Harry with the whipped cream."

She guessed all the answers correctly and moved forward five spaces. As he imagined himself and Potter in a tub of whipped cream, Draco started to think that maybe this game wouldn't be so bad after all.

On his fourth or fifth turn, Draco landed on a reversal, which meant that he alone was supposed to answer the question; the others would guess what he answered. His mouth went dry as he read the question. "What celebrity would you most like to have sex with?"

Hand trembling as he fought both his anxiety and the Veritaserum, Draco wrote down his answer. They were going to go clockwise around the circle to guess the answer, which meant that Pansy would guess first.

_Fuck_, Draco thought.

But, shockingly, Pansy raised her shoulders, pulled an innocent face, and said, "Viktor Krum?"

Draco was flabbergasted. Did Veritaserum not work when someone wasn't being asked a direct question? His mind reeled as Pansy turned away with a smirk and others tried to guess his answer. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, the blood rushing in his ears. Maybe no one would find out. If they could just get past Granger without her guessing, he might get lucky.

Granger's turn came all too soon. She looked straight into Draco's eyes, as if she were reading his soul, and said, "Harry Potter."

/ / \ \ / / \ \

Never in Harry's life had his own name sounded so foreign. He didn't usually think of himself as a celebrity, after all. Harry looked from Hermione, who he was sure had gone mad, to Malfoy, who he was sure would begin laughing at any second. Everyone had fallen silent; all eyes were on Malfoy.

Ron was supposed to read his answer next, but he'd apparently lost his ability to speak. It didn't matter; Malfoy stood and handed the slip of paper with his answer to Hermione. "I'm going to bed. Granger won, anyway."

It was true – once Hermione moved her and Ron's piece, she'd be the winner. But no one was interested in the game board anymore. All eyes were on Draco as he opened the door to his and Blaise's shared bedroom.

"Malfoy, wait!" Hermione called after him, but he was already shutting them out.

Once Draco was out of sight, everyone turned their attention to Harry, who could feel his cheeks beginning to burn.

"You should go after him, Harry," Ginny said with a wink.

"Oh hush, Ginny!" said Hermione.

But Harry did not hear a word. He was still trying to digest what had just happened. Hermione had suggested he was the celebrity Malfoy most wanted to have sex with, and Malfoy hadn't denied it.

"So what do you think?" Hermione asked, once the game was over and people were starting to head off to bed.

"About what?"

"Well – Draco."

Harry took a deep breath and told the truth. "I think I need a drink."

With that, he walked over to the bar, poured himself a shot of vodka, and downed it. Then he poured another and repeated. Twice.

Ron appeared at his side. "Are you all right, mate?"

Harry closed his eyes as the burning liquid slid down his throat. "Yeah – yeah, I'm fine."

"I wouldn't be," Ron said. "I'd have nightmares for the rest of my life if —"

"Well I didn't ask for your opinion, did I?" Harry wasn't sure what had come over him, why Ron's words had caused anger to flare in his belly. "Sorry. I'm just – I need some sleep."

Ron nodded and took a step back to let him pass.

In the privacy of his bed, Harry began to wonder if he could ever return Malfoy's feelings. He'd never thought of Malfoy like that before, but then they'd always been enemies until after the war. Even now, they barely spoke. But there was _something_ about Malfoy…

Harry closed his eyes. He remembered how Malfoy had looked that morning, his skin a light golden colour against the black of is ski clothes. His eyes, grey as the mountains. His hair, white and shiny and silky soft – or at least that's how Harry imagined it would feel. He wondered what Malfoy looked like right now, lying in bed. Was he asleep? What was he wearing? Harry imagined him in a pair of green silk pyjama bottoms.

He saw himself coming into Malfoy's room, sitting beside him on the bed. Malfoy opening his eyes, his voice hoarse with sleep. "Potter, what are you doing here?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Malfoy's. Malfoy tensed at first, but Harry continued to coax his mouth open, brushing his lips against the other boy's until he relaxed in his arms and let him in. When they pulled apart Harry looked down at him. The light of the full moon flowed in through the window, casting silver light on Malfoy's hair. Malfoy looked stunning.

Harry felt something stir in his groin. As he allowed his fantasy to progress, he brought a hand beneath the sheets to rub the bulge in between his legs.

/ / \ \ / / \ \

Draco felt awkward being in Potter's presence the next morning. He did not stray from the group, as he usually did, for fear of ending up alone with him. Instead he stayed as close to Pansy and Blaise as possible.

Of course, Blaise wasn't going to make things easy for him.

"Oh, Harry!" He would say in an enamoured falsetto, whenever the three of them found themselves alone. And, "Potter, I love you!"

By dinner, Draco decided he'd had enough. And so did his schnitzel, by the looks of it. "Tell me, Blaise, how did it go with the Weaslette and those liquorice snaps? I'm surprised you're able to sit today. Fucking sado-masochists."

Blaise offered no response, but he didn't bother Draco after that.

When they got back to the cabin, Potter and Granger offered to make hot chocolate for everyone, as they were the only ones who knew how to do anything in the kitchen without magic.

"Draco?"

Draco started at the sound of his given name on Potter's lips. Potter blushed; obviously Draco's reaction had made him realise what he'd said.

_Oh, right, hot chocolate_ Draco thought. "Yes, please."

While they were waiting for their drinks, some of the others began a game of "I've never…" Blaise and Pansy joined in. Draco remained planted firmly in his seat in front of the fireplace. He'd had enough party games to last him a lifetime. He picked the local daily newspaper from the coffee table, but he couldn't focus on any of the articles. His mind was on Potter, and the fact that he'd spoken to Draco after what he'd learned yesterday.

_He was just being polite_, the logical part of his mind told him. _But then why did he call me 'Draco'? He's never done that before._

When Potter reappeared with the hot chocolate, Draco tossed the paper aside and took the mug. "Thank you."

The steaming drink was topped with whipped cream – Draco felt a fluttering in his belly as he remembered that it was Potter's chosen sex food.

"Good?"

Draco nodded. Potter sat down in the opposite chair.

"Is it true?" he asked.

"What?"

"What you said yesterday."

Draco swallowed. He lowered his cup. "I haven't figured out a way to cheat Veritaserum. Have you?"

"No," said Potter. He peered down at his own shoes. "I er – had no idea you felt that way."

Draco was starting to feel really uncomfortable. "Well, now you know."

They sat in awkward silence for a moment. In the background, someone began, "I've never —"

"I've never thought about you like that – until yesterday," Potter supplied.

Draco looked up. Their eyes met for the first time since Potter had learned of his feelings. _Yesterday?_ he wanted to ask. "I'd have to drink to that," he replied instead, surprising himself with his openness.

Potter's laugh was tense. He took a gulp of his hot chocolate. "That, er —" he said, "That doesn't mean I didn't like it when I _did_ think about it."

Draco nearly choked on his drink. "What?"

"I thought about you last night, in bed." Potter blushed. "And I liked it."

Draco set down his mug, careful not to spill. His hand was trembling. The blood was flowing hotly in his veins.

"I usually start things off more slowly," Potter said. "But we might not get another chance like this anytime soon." They both looked around at the others, engrossed in their game and well on their way to getting pissed. "So, er – do you want to step outside so I can show you what I thought about?"

Draco could hardly hear Potter over the sound of his own beating heart. He nodded.

"Okay." Potter smiled and put down his mug. He looked scared and vulnerable and _so fucking hot_.

Draco led the way outside. He stood on the porch, resting his hands on the railing, and took a deep breath of the brisk, wintry air. It was starting to snow, Draco's favourite kind of snow – huge, fluffy flakes that that drifted lazily to the ground. Potter's hand covered his own on the railing – so warm – and Draco held his breath. He felt lightheaded and weak. Time stretched and stretched until every second was unbearable as they moved closer, as if drawn together by some magnet.

"We must be mad," Potter whispered, and then his lips were brushing Draco's, his breath hot in contrast to the air. A snowflake landed in between their mouths and began to melt on contact. Draco laughed nervously, and Potter took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid against Draco's own. He tasted like chocolate. Draco pulled him closer, sank deeper into him. It felt like they were melting together.

/ / \ \ / / \ \

"Show me," Malfoy whispered against Harry's mouth. Their ragged breaths created little puffs of fog between them. "Show me what else you thought about."

Harry uncurled his fingers from Malfoy's jumper and slid his hand around, unzipping the other boy's trousers and reaching inside. Malfoy tensed and bit his lip.

"I've never—" Harry said, pretending to play along with the game going on inside to ease his anxiety, "done any of this with a bloke before." His fingers found the heated and velvety soft skin of Malfoy's shaft.

Malfoy laughed softly. "Nor have I."

Harry slid his hand further down and wrapped his fingers around Malfoy's cock. The back of his hand was wet and sticky now. He closed his eyes just as Malfoy let his head fall back. "Draco," he said, as if trying out the sound of the name on his lips. "Draco."

Harry pressed his lips against Draco's neck and kissed the water from a melted snowflake.

"Harry."

Draco hissed as Harry pulled his cock out into the cold winter air and began to stroke him properly. He buried a hand in his hair, pulling him closer. "Harry."

Harry inhaled his scent, clean and crisp as freshly fallen snow. "Can I taste you?"

"You'll get your knees wet." Draco indicated the layer of snow now covering the porch where they stood.

"I don't care."

Harry sank to his knees. He licked his lips nervously before flicking his tongue out to catch the bit of fluid that had collected at the tip of Draco's cock. It was salty and left a bitter aftertaste on the back of Harry's tongue. He wrapped his hand around the base of Draco's shaft and stroked him as he began to press kisses to the head.

Draco gasped and bucked his hips. When Harry finally took him fully in his mouth he moaned, loudly enough that someone inside might have heard. But Harry didn't care. Less than thirty-six hours ago, he was feeling lonely, and now he was sucking Draco Malfoy off, making him moan, making him come undone. It was so insane, so unexpected he had to wonder if perhaps he was dreaming.

/ / \ \ / / \ \

The snow crunched beneath Draco's boots as he stepped out to enjoy the view one last time. The others were packing, clueless as to what had happened in this very spot the night before. All of them except Harry, that is.

Draco heard the door open and close, and then footsteps behind him. He didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

"It's a nice view," Potter said.

"Not as nice as the view behind me, I imagine," said Draco, smiling to himself. "I'd like to come back one day. When I can use magic. It'd be nice to fly out here." He imagined zipping in between the evergreens, cold air hitting his face. Harry chasing him, perhaps. The two of them tumbling in the snow.

"Yeah, it would." Harry stepped beside him now. His fingers brushed Draco's, and Draco's heart skipped a beat. Slowly – because nothing of what happened the night before could be certain in the light of day – Harry took his hand. "You know what else would be nice?"

"Mm?"

"If you would sit with me on the ride back. It'd be interesting to see if we can spend a few hours together without killing or seriously injuring each other." Harry grinned.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's worth the risk?"

Harry gave his hand a squeeze. "I am."

The End.


End file.
